


Unrequited Love

by Avaryce



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Smut, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-05 05:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18359246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avaryce/pseuds/Avaryce
Summary: He loves him, but he loves this guy- and he loves somebody else. You just can't win.An exploration of Ilya's, Asra's, and Lucio's past feelings.Ilya has a thing for Asra. He knows. But he's preoccupied with feelings for a love lost to the Red Plague. Lucio can't stand that Ilya; his favorite doctor, could have affection for someone else! That would be too big a bruise to his ego.





	1. Chapter 1

Distracted from his research, Ilya found himself staring. It was a guilty pleasure; watching Asra’s bare back glisten against the golden sunlight as he plucked herbs from a clearing in the forest. It was a hot day, and Asra had long ago abandoned his shirt, neatly folding it and leaving it to Ilya’s watch.  
Ilya himself had rested himself beneath a looming tree, trying to escape the sun’s vicious rays. He was so fair that he believed even seconds in the sun would blister his skin. Though the shade protected him from the sun it did little to alleviate the heat. And he only grew hotter watching Asra toil in the sun.  
Ilya swallowed hard and tugged the wide collar of his poet’s shirt, attempting to let steam free.  
“Ilya?” Asra’s soft and airy voice rose from across the clearing, snapping Ilya out of his staring spell. “Would you mind bringing over the herb basket?”  
Ilya glanced to the cornucopia basket sitting beside Asra’s shirt before snatching it up, and blanketing himself from the sun with his loose wing-like sleeve. He knelt down beside Asra, gingerly handing him the basket.  
Despite having been on his hands and knees in the dirt nearly all afternoon, Asra was impeccably clean. “By the gods, how do you stay so neat?” Ilya remarked. Asra merely offered a smile as he began emptying his fists into the herb basket. “Had it been me on the ground all day, I’d be covered head to toe.”  
“Ilya, you aren’t very tidy in the first place.” It wasn’t meant to be an insult. It was more an observation. Still Ilya took it to be a mark against his character and drew the corner of his mouth upward in irritation. Before he could retort, Asra sat up and offered that perfect angelic smile which successfully silenced the argument before it even began. Ilya’s face colored slightly as he lost his words.  
It was that face that reminded him why he didn’t deserve Asra. Still- out of his own selfish will, he stayed beside him. Ilya believed Asra was all things goodness- warmth, light, kindness… a huge juxtaposition to himself. As for himself, Ilya was a tainted man. He supposed Asra’s comment was true both literally and metaphysically. He was indeed dirty. His hands carried heavy burdens. The kind he preferred not to discuss out loud. No, he’d internalize this train of thought like a pressure cooker.  
As the magician returned to gathering components, Ilya returned to quietly studying him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there watching before Asra piped up again.  
“You’re quiet today.” Asra noted with an almost concerned note.  
“Am I? … I suppose that’s- true.” He sighed.  
“Is something on your mind?” He asks while wiping back perspiration that had gathered beneath his fluffy white bangs.  
Ilya shook his head as if to disorganize his thoughts and allow the improvisation process to take back over. “The sun. Its too hot for my taste!” He whipped his auburn hair wildly to the side before standing back up and brushing the dust from his pant legs.  
“Well then we should get you back to the palace. I think we both could use some cooling off.” Asra scooped up his basket and stuffed one more handful of herbs into it before retrieving his shirt. Ilya nodded, relieved to be free of explaining himself.  
“You know days like this remind me of…” Ilya trailed off into one of his tall tales as the two traveled back to Count Lucio’s palace. By the time they arrived Ilya was drenched in sweat. Asra had taken to the heat much fairer than Ilya. Nothing more than a simple perspiration had overcome his skin.  
Upon entering the palace the two grew significantly cooler. The day was coming to a close and their duties could wait till morning. Asra seemed distant. The doctor couldn’t read that enigmatic mind, and that was both fascinating and irritating.. He quirked an eyebrow to the man and leaned against an obelisk observing him for a minute.  
He chose to pretend he didn’t notice Asra’s preoccupation and casually strode up alongside him, feeling a touch jealous. “Join me in the bath house, Asra?” His offer sounded slippery coming out of his lips. Asra narrowed his eyes briefly abandoning his normally aloof expression for a more knowing one. He quickly shed the expression when he reasoned that a bath would indeed be very pleasant.  
Asra took the lead from that point, headed to the royal bathes. Ilya was surprised when Asra took him up on the offer. With a couple realizing blinks, and grinned and followed quickly behind Asra, his toes nearly clipping at his heels.  
Truth be told Asra would much rather bathe alone in silence. At times like this, he found Dr. Devorak to be slightly trying. However he maintained his composure and brushed the feelings aside.  
Once in the room the floral scent of lavender filled the air. It had an immensely calming effect. Ilya watched Asra enter first, he quickly shed his clothes and in a fluid movement was in the bath before Ilya could process what had happened. Smooth.  
Ilya sauntered to the other side of the bathing pool, disrobed, and sunk in neatly. There was a comfortable distance between the two of them. One which Ilya felt he needed to close. He waded over, water up to the sharpest points of his hipbones.  
Asra suppressed a sigh as Ilya sat beside him. He wasn’t sure why Ilya was so drawn to him, or why he hung around him so often.  
“Despite the circumstances, I’m glad we’ve come to work here for the ol’ Count together.” Ilya casually started up conversation. He was always doing that. Starting up conversation when silence was a perfectly acceptable route.  
Asra’s nose wrinkled ever so slightly at the mention of the count. “Yes…” He chose not to bring up that his service was coerced. That was private information. He shifted slightly on the seat of the bathing pool. Not particularly invested in the direction this conversation was headed.  
Ilya shifted gears. “I know we’ve worked together on a cure for the plague… but I haven’t seen your talents for myself yet…” He stated. One could easily mistake his tone for skeptical, but Asra could read deeper than most. He could detect the curiosity in Ilya’s voice. As if searching for the truth.  
“Do you really want to see?”  
“Yes… humor me, Asra.”  
Asra motioned for him to come closer. Ilya eagerly leaned closer, feeling his ears prickle with excitement. Asra smiled and glanced at Ilya’s expression. “Look closer…”  
Ilya furrowed his brow, all he could see was the light bouncing off the waters surface as Asra’s hand rested just below the surface in a loose fist.  
“Uh… What am I looking at?” He asked focusing hard on the water’s surface. And on que, Asra squeezed his fist shut, causing water to erupt from below and splash Ilya in the face.  
Ilya jumped in surprise, sputtering. Asra covered his mouth and chuckled softly. He couldn’t resist. Ilya was… surprisingly trusting. He wasn’t anything like the other doctors working down in the dungeons.  
He still had his humanity to him.  
“Ha. ha. Very funny.” He sat up, wiping his face with the back of his arm and then crossing them indignantly.  
Asra smiled sweetly, then pulled his hand up out of the water, stream spilling from the sides. Ilya watched from the corner of his eyes as Asra began to shape the water. Soon, standing in the palm of his hand was the figure of a raven, flapping its wings as small water droplets threatened to spray from his wings. It was beautiful. Ilya leaned closer, watching in amazement as Asra commanded the water’s shape.  
“Incredible…” Ilya’s voice tumbled out in an awe inspired hush.  
“Well- if it isn’t the vagrant magician and my favorite doctor.” A voice bellowed just behind them in the entrance of the bathing room.  
They didn’t have to look to know who it was. Asra remained still, allowing the raven to fall through his fingers. He would not impart his attention to that foul man. However Ilya turned with a flourish.  
“My lord Count Lucio!” Ilya’s eyes were wide. A subtle nod to his nervousness. Asra shut his own eyes, the sound and sight of the man giving him a sour taste in his mouth.  
“Jules, Jules, Jules….” The Count’s voice echoed around the room. “Having fun are we?” He walked the outline of the pool.  
“We’re merely discussing the cure to the Red Plague, your lordship.” He stated.  
“Good.” He barked. “I need that cure doctor. No one has suffered more in the history of suffering as I myself do now…”  
“An exaggeration, dear Count. You’ve only just fallen ill.” Ilya stated.  
“You contradict my word?” His voice was venom.  
Ilya sealed his lips. He dare not say anymore against the count. It was best to drop that line of topic before he upset him.  
“Vagrant, Do you agree with Doctor Jules?” The count pried.  
Asra said nothing, his entire presence far too relaxed for the situation.  
“Vagrant!” His eyes widened in irritation.  
A soft snore.  
Ilya was shocked, was he actually sleeping!?  
“He DARE to fall asleep in MY presence!?”  
“Oh! Well- He’s- he- heat stroke, my lord!” He fabricated. “All day he was out there in the tremendous heat, sire!” He bit his lower lip. “He cannot help it.” That was the best Ilya could come up with on the spot. He only hoped his expertise as a doctor would make the lie more viable to Lucio.  
He was not satisfied with the answer and that was clear. But perhaps the Count was less vicious than usual today... Or too weak with the sickness to cause a bigger fuss. “See that he is gone before I return for my bath.” He commanded. With a dramatic turn the count left the room.  
Ilya released a sigh of relief. He turned to Asra and was shocked to see one sliver of an eye peering at him as a devious little grin quirked on Asra’s soft lips. Ilya was too baffled to say anything. He couldn’t believe Asra wasn’t afraid of the Count.  
“Are you mad!?” Ilya couldn’t decide whether to be amused or to be angry. The man certainly had guts, to act so flippant in front of the Count.  
Asra shrugged. “Seemed to take the attention off of you.” He shrugged.  
Ilya opened his mouth, then closed it. “…Fair.” Asra rose from the water, climbing back out of the pool. His bath spoiled by Lucio’s outburst. He retrieved a robe from a long rack of robes which hung neatly along the wall.  
Ilya watched as Asra wrapped up in a robe. His eyes tracing the line which seemed to divide his abdomen down the middle, till they caught on the inguinal ligament and his eyes quickly cast aside before following that line even lower. He bit his lip, suppressing a groan which threatened to spill out. Before he knew it, Asra was by the edge of the pool, offering a robe to Ilya. He took the robe, cheeks flushed.  
“Thank you…” He slipped the robe on swiftly as he exited the pool. Ilya gazed at Asra over his shoulder as they exited the bathhouse. “In the future you may want to be more cautious around The Count. It’d be a shame to lose someone so talented and bright.” He winked.  
The compliment caught Asra off guard. He wasn’t sure how to take it. He felt himself falter this time. And with a dramatic swish of his robe, Ilya retired to his room, leaving Asra to himself once more.


	2. Chapter 2

Ilya laid in his cot. This had been his fourth attempt to sleep since retiring to his quarters. A wail came from the other side of the door. Another one fallen to the Red Plague. He turned his back to the door. A shiver running down his spine.  
No. Couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t going to happen this time. He could see the sun peeking through the barred sliver of a window at the top of his office wall.  
He sat up with a groan and pulled his apron on, followed by his mask, which was almost insufferably potent with the smell of herbs. A short sharp cough escaped his lips beneath the mask. He left his office to examine the patients who had not yet been taken from their cages.  
He hated the way the plague victims were being kept like animals. They were still human. And they would be spending their last days cooped up behind bars. And not even bars as welcoming or homey as a jail cell. These where outright dog kennels. They were lab rats to the other doctors, but to Ilya they where people. Just very sick people.  
He knelt down to eye level with a pale woman who was hunched over in her cage, clutching her stomach and silently moaning. She caught sight of his mask and turned with a shudder.  
“Shhh…” He whispered just loud enough to be heard through his mask. “I want to help. We are trying…” He soothed. The calm tone and gentle words seemed to earn him some trust from the woman. “You have lovely hair, my dear. What’s your name?” He waited patiently. When she spoke, her voice quivered and tears streaked from her red eyes.  
“Alouise…”  
“Alouise… lovely. Very sing-song…” He kept his tone low and mellow. “Could you tell me dear… What is your pain level and are you experiencing any new symptoms? Maybe I could prescribe-”  
“Please…” She straightened slightly and removed her arms from her abdomen to reveal a very round belly. “M-my baby… Please tell me you can save my baby… That’s all I care about.”  
Ilya felt his heart sink. Behind the mask his eye widened and he felt his words catch in his throat. Her eyes pleading, fear and desperation filled her weak body as she shivered and shook.  
Another voice cut through the air. “Doctor number 69.” It was a disturbingly welcomed distraction. Ilya rose to his feet, turning to the source of the voice. “Please step aside.” Valdemar walked up nearly toe to toe with Ilya.  
Valdemar tilted their head to the side, that grotesquely wide smile was unsettling to watch. He wondered for a moment why they never wore a mask. With the Plague ever rampant they were playing a dangerous game. “Move, Number 69.”  
“She’s pregnant.” He gulped. He knew better than to argue with the Palace’s head physician, but he didn’t want to just let this go.  
“Oh my… Yes she IS pregnant.” They pressed the tips of his fingers together all the more interested as they leaned closer. Alouise backed to the corner of her tiny cage. “We rarely get such an opportunity to study cases such as these.” Their voice carries a gruesome fascination. “Doctor Number 43!” A plump brunette woman shuffled to Valdemar’s side. “Please prepare the dissection table.”  
The back of Ilya’s head pounded with worry. “To… To save the baby, yes?” He pressed the topic. Nerves apparent in his voice.  
“How curious. You think you can?” Vlademar tilted their head. A distinctly sardonic look plastered on their face.  
Ilya knew this was not going to end well. But what good was he if he did not try?  
Meanwhile, Asra had become absorbed into a tome as he sat beneath the willow tree which stood sleepily over a trickling fountain in the garden. From this spot something vibrant caught his eye on the veranda which overlooked the spot.  
The piercing flash of purple against the white exterior of the palace, it was none other than the Countess herself. She wore a troubled expression, holding a cup of tea delicately in her supple hands. Asra set his tome down and decidedly joined the Countess on the veranda.  
He gently cleared his throat to alert her of his presence. She turned to meet his gaze.  
“Asra…” She offered a weak smile. “How nice to see you.”  
“Nadi?” He offered a sympathetic smile. The two had grown very fond of each other during Asra’s time at the palace.  
She was happy for the company. Left alone to her own thoughts she hahd begun to feel helpless. “Asra, please, sit with me.” She smiled as she sunk into a pile of pillows. Asra sat with her, his calming smile never fading. “You always seem to show up when I’m at a low. ” She took a short sip of her tea.  
“I suppose fate has plans for us.” He mused while leaning forward on his fist.  
“Fate?” She gave a bitter smile. “Yes. I suppose.” Fate had always been a cruel concept to her, one which grounded her but also helped her cope with some of life’s bigger challenges. “You know its… hard.” Asra simply listened quietly as she continued. “Waiting.”  
Asra nodded.  
“Part of me… wants the cure. And that part wants it now.” She stated while idly running her delicate fingers along the rim of her teacup. “But the other part… a part larger than I would like to admit- is grateful for it.” Asra didn’t look surprised. She looked to his face, probing for approval or disgust but found neither. “I just wish… Either that the doctor would find this damn cure or that the plague would hurry and…”  
“Take Lucio to grave?” Asra finished for her.  
Her gaze faltered and she took a nervous sip of her tea.  
Asra placed a sincere hand on her shoulder. “Nadi… Such things are natural.” The tension in her shoulders finally eased and she gave a weak smile. “I’m in no rush to see an end to his suffering, but I do understand where you are coming from. You deserve happiness.” The Plague had already taken what mattered most to Asra, he could care less one way or another how quickly it was resolved. His mind was preoccupied on bringing back what was lost.  
Nadia pushed a strand of her thick purple hair back over her shoulder and straightened up. “Asra, I’ve always trusted you. You understand me when nobody else can.” Her narrow eyes traced his face. “But I have always had the distinct feeling that you are not here to cure the Plague per say.”  
Asra felt his demeanor drop momentarily before quickly throwing a wall back up. “Ah, Nadi… You’re too sharp.” He smiled.  
She sipped her tea once more. “It’s your business. I won’t pry.”  
The two stayed there all day, and late into the night. Asra’s presence calming Nadi and visa versa. The time passed far too quickly however and Asra realized he would need to get back to his shop soon. The two parted ways, a little sheepish they’d both kept the other so late. They parted with a ceremonious air kiss to each other’s cheeks.  
After exiting the palace, Asra walked the cobblestone streets of Vesuvia. The moon cast a silvery glow on the town. Feeling a curious urge wash over him he decided to take an alternate route home. He knew it was the long way, but that gave him time to gather his thoughts. During the conversation with Nadia much earlier that day, he’d thought of a lovely pair of eyes. The eyes he longed to see once more.  
The beautiful person who had at one point worked as an apprentice to Doctor Devorak. Though Asra doubted Ilya had thought of her as more than just hired help. He really didn’t realize the value of what he had. Had they been HIS apprentice he’d have found a cure to the Red Plague long before now. She was everything that had ever mattered to Asra.  
As if by some ill-fated joke, Asra was knocked to the ground when a tavern seemingly spat a man out it’s doors. The surly drunk had tumbled down the stone steps and landed right atop Asra. Nearly winded his eyes widened as he looked up to discover none other than Ilya, pinning him to the ground. He looked a touch woozy as he stared down at Asra in return.  
At this point a wild smile broke across Ilya’s face. “Oh… Whats’a guy like you doin’ inna place like thisss?” He slurred his words ever so slightly. He looked please with himself and laughed loudly. His hot breath cascaded over Asra’s prone form, offending him with the scent of one too many salt bitters.  
“Ilya…” Asra breathed. “Could you… Get off?”  
“Here? Now?!” He grinned devilishly. “How compromising.”  
Asra was less than amused. It seemed Ilya did not understand his meaning. He narrowed his eyes at Ilya giving him a deadpan stare. “Ilya.”  
“Oh. Yes. Yes of course.” His cheeks flushed and he stood with a slight sway, he offered his hand to Asra.  
Hesitating Asra took his hand and stood. Rebalancing himself Ilya nearly toppled over again before catching himself.  
“How many have you had, Ilya?” Asra asked, adopting his neutral expression once more.  
“Ah, four, five- eight? Who’s counting anyway?” He chuckled. “I just came out to get some air, but I’ll ask the barkeep when I go back for another.” He stated.  
“…It seems like you’ve had enough.” Asra stated while pulling Ilya’s arm over his shoulder to support him.  
“Nonsense!” He swung his opposite arm wide. “I know when I’ve had enough.”  
“And how do you know this?”  
“I wakeup somewhere strange and wonder where I am. Then I know I’ve had enough.” He flashed a derisive grin.  
Asra paused, but a soft laugh escaped him. “Pffthaha!”  
Ilya leaned heavier on Asra as they walked down alleyways. Feeling a sense of satisfaction having provoked a laugh from the mysterious magician. “Um… Where are we going?”  
“My place.”  
“Oh. Um. Alright.” He couldn’t picture what kind of place Asra might live in. It wasn’t long before they arrived at the shop. Ilya eyed it over. Humble. But certainly better than his so-called office at the palace. Entering he was taken aback by the random knick-knacks gathered from faraway places and the rich colorful tapestries and pillows. He wasn’t sure what else to expect now that he had seen it. It was very much Asra. “This place is… it suits you.” Ilya smiled as Asra settled him into a pile of pillows.  
Asra offered a mysterious smile. “I’ll make you some tea.”  
“Thanks…” Ilya gazed around the room as Asra whisked off to the kitchen. This was the perfect little place for one or two people to live. In fact it seemed as though up until recently two people HAD lived here. Curiously he poked around. Two dining chairs. Two spots to sleep. Two mugs sitting on a shelf. Lots of twos, he mentally noted. Again he felt a slight ping of jealousy.  
Asra came back from the kitchen a pot in hand. He took the mugs from the shelf and set it on the coffee table beside Ilya, pouring him some tea. Ilya took the mug in hand, feeling its warmth piece his chilled hands. It smelt like chamomile.  
“Trying to put me to sleep, are you?” He grinned.  
“Just drink it, Ilya.”  
The demand silenced him and is cheeks flushed but he obediently- if not; sheepishly drank. He was silent as the tea settled him. His thoughts swirling. After a few silent minutes he set his empty mug down.  
“Do you live here with someone?” Ilya finally asked, the jealousy had finally become too much.  
“No. I’m alone here.” Asra answered.  
“But you used to?” Ilya pried, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing.  
Asra was silent, decidedly choosing not to answer.  
Ilya shifted uncomfortably. “I should… get back to the palace.” Asra knew Ilya meant no harm in asking his questions. It still stung him hard to think about her. For a moment he felt pity, and Asra cracked.  
“Why don’t you stay here for the night, Ilya.”  
“…Can I?” He paused. “Should I?” He felt guilt wash over him like a wave. Kindness. He didn’t do anything to deserve that. Today was a harsh reflection of that.  
Asra nodded. “It’s alright.”  
Ilya’s face turned red. But he let his selfish impulse take control and remained seated at the table. “…Thank you.” He remained stiff in his seat.  
“What was it that lead to such… extravagant drinking?” Asra could tell by the mood in the room it was not celebratory. He watched as Ilya squirmed under his interrogation.  
Ilya’s lips parted as he thought of what to say. “There was a woman today. Erm. She was… in her third trimester.” He responded slowly. Asra felt pain blossom in his chest. “I attempted an emergency surgery to- to preserve the infant’s life… at- at the mothers request.” He swallowed hard, feeling his mouth grow dry once more. Asra poured him another mug of tea as Ilya eyed him, much with the same guilt Nadia carried in her eyes this morning. He felt perhaps if Ilya spoke about it, it may help take away some of the burden. “Th-the mother did not survive and the… um. The infant had the…you know.” He motioned vaguely over his face. “The red sclera…. So. So it was decided to… ….“ By this point the doctor’s eyes could no longer meet with Asra’s.  
Asra could sense the twisting, souring, knot in Ilya’s stomach as the story unfolded. He looked like he might be sick, but regardless he held his liquor. “I see….” Asra leaned back, taking in a deep breath.  
Ilya’s humanity was in a strange way refreshing. At least some one down there had compassion. But at the same time it was also hurting him. He could see the blame Ilya casted upon himself.  
“You know… I’d give anything… and I mean ANYTHING to just be able to take the weight off the plague on myself if it meant I could spare everyone else.” Asra tilted his head, a soft sincerity took over his eyes as he listened to Ilya speak.  
“Ilya that’s… a very good trait.” He encouraged. “You’re actually a man of depth despite how you come off.”  
Ilya was too far emotionally compromised to make any poignant rebuttals. He shrugged his shoulders. “Got anything harder than tea?” He asked while trying to force a brave smile. “I’m… starting to sober up, and I’d much rather not be. Sober, that is.”  
Asra shook his head. “Afraid not. You should probably just sleep now.” He stated. “I find dreaming can bring much relief from the day’s events.”  
For a second Ilya thought he understood some of the depth of Asra’s character, but the thought escaped him as he felt his lids growing heavy. His gray eyes slid shut and his head connected with the pillows as he slowly lowered to the side. Asra pulled a sheet over the doctor’s long legs and laid down not far from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting a lot of encouragement from my beta reader/baby sister.  
> In any case, this is actually really therapeutic to write. Hopefully you as the reader are enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it. Thanks for the kudos and comments on chapter one! I look forward to posting chapter three, but I need to refine it a little more first.  
> Also I have resurrected my tumblr thanks to The Arcana in an attempt to find Arcana buddies! Find me at AbbeySnail.


	3. Chapter 3

Sunbeams tickled Ilya’s cool skin. He turned to face Asra who laid beside him. His cool violet eyes glimmered in the daylight. This was nice. Ilya shied a bit, and when Azra’s hand began to slide up the length of his chest, Ilya felt a heat like no other rise to his cheeks. “A-Asra…” He gasped. Had something changed between them since last night?  
He searched his memory. Hard. What happened? It didn’t matter. “God, you don’t have to be so soft.” He let out a throaty chuckle. “You can… be a little rougher if you want.” Ilya offered. Without even asking Asra’s slender hands gathered softly at Ilya’s neck. Ilya’s eyes flickered with intense excitement. “Go on…” Saying nothing, Asra began to slowly squeeze Ilya’s neck. A perverted grin formed on Ilya’s face. “Oh… Asra…” He bit his lip as the pleasant tension around his neck grew tighter and tighter. Ilya was starting to get dizzy.  
It was exciting, but as time passed, it seemed he wasn’t going to let go.  
“M-maybe getting… too… tight nggh. A-…sra?” Asra’s grip began wringing around his neck and Ilya wished they would have established a safe word beforehand. He reached to pry Asra’s hands, lunging forward! “GAH!”  
He woke from his dream to find Asra wasn’t even near him. He wasn’t even sure where the man was, for a moment he thought he was safe, but still he couldn’t breathe. Desperate for air he gripped at the tight line around his throat. Something leathery- NO. Scaly was there. He couldn’t slip his fingers between it and his neck.  
The corners of his vision grew dark as he tried in vain to call out for help.  
“Ah, Faust! There you are.” Asra’s voice came from behind Ilya and soon enough the tightness vanished, leaving him sputtering and coughing. The oxygen starved man spun around to see a small opalescent snake slither up Asra’s arm.  
Ilya’s eyes were wide in terror. “That thing almost killed me!!”  
“Who, Faust? She would never harm anyone.” Asra smiled and scratched under Faust’s chin.  
Ilya wrung the spot around his neck where snakeskin imprints still shone brightly. It was at this point his head decided to remind him of last night’s little outing. He pressed his palm to his forehead trying to alleviate his hangover.  
“Oooh… That stings.” He hissed.  
Asra set a tray with a humble breakfast of honeyed toast with a small bowl of berries down. “You’ll feel better if you eat.”  
“Erm. Thank you.” He blushed, waiting for Asra to take the first bite. He watched as Asra pulled a strawberry from the plate. Watching him eat gave Ilya an odd flutter in his stomach. Or perhaps it was just the hangover. Either way, Asra caught him with a perverted grin spread across his face.  
Internally rolling his eyes he clamped down on the strawberry, trying to sever any strange image Ilya may have developed. Ilya bit his bottom lip and blinked wide eyed. Asra took this as nervousness, but Ilya only found himself wound up tighter.  
The doctor decided he probably should eat something. He grabbed a piece of honeyed toast and began nibbling at it. He leaned back with a sigh. “You will have to let me pay you back for your hospitality.”  
Asra half worried at the suggestion. The last thing he wanted was Ilya to believe he owed him any sort of favor. No, that would only mean that he’d be in his face more often. Disrupting his daydreams, invading his personal space, possibly even preventing him from doing his own research. He couldn’t have that!  
“No… you don’t owe me anything.”  
“Ohhh no. No, no, no. You can’t stop me from repaying such a generous act!” Ilya set the half-finished piece of toast back on the plate. “It’s well deserved. When you do favors for people who don’t appreciate it enough to return it, then you are being taken advantage of- and Asra, I do not wish to take advantage of you.”  
Asra felt his face slip into a deadpan stare. This was a mistake. Perhaps he should have left him in the gutter after all. He sighed. “If you must… But for now we should really head to the palace.” He stated. “Speaking with Nadi last night, it seems the Count is growing impatient for that cure. We should at least make it look like we are making progress.”  
“Oh, ahem. Yes of course.” Ilya sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.  
After breakfast; which was mostly consumed by Asra as Ilya spent the duration of the meal prattling on, the two headed back to the palace.  
“I assume you will be in the library?” Ilya asked. Asra nodded. “Then I’ll meet you there after I check in with the Count. I feel some deep research is a good way to inspire new ideas.” He stated. Asra could care less what Ilya did with his time, but gave an affirming nod none the less.  
The two parted and Ilya headed to The Count’s room.  
Ilya gave a rhythmic knock on Lucio’s door.  
“Enter.”  
Ilya swung the door open, immediately assaulted by the scent of burning incense. Lucio sat up in his bed, an expectant look on his face.  
Ilya made his way to Lucio’s bedside. “Good morning, your lordship.” Lucio looked like a man who had lost his patience. Thrumming his gold fingers on the edge of the bed. This action set Ilya on edge. Had he done something wrong? What iniquity had Lucio found in him so early this morning?  
“Just where were you last night?” His voice was fiery and accusatory. Taken back by the question Ilya found himself nervously searching. “I called for you to be sent to my room last night and nobody could find you.” His red eyes sent fear coursing through Ilya’s veins.  
“I… was in a gutter somewhere. My apologies, your Majesty.” He bowed his head low, to which Lucio slipped his fingers under Ilya’s long narrow chin, forcing him to look back into his eyes, before his fingers wrapped around his already sore throat.  
“I’m dying, Jules…. DYING! Do you understand!?” He roared. “Your duty is here. To ME. You can indulge your alcoholism after you’ve found the cure. Granted I permit it!”  
“Yes, sire.” Ilya answered without hesitation.  
“Good boy…”  
Ilya’s cheeks pinked slightly and Lucio released his throat. Ilya hated the way that Lucio could illicit reactions from him.  
Lucio had long ago discovered easy ways to manipulate Ilya. Someone who always acted as a martyr or cast themselves a victim, such as Julian was easy prey. Those people developed a strong sense of self-loathing. And Lucio was a bit of a sociopath. It was textbook abusive relationship. Just the way Lucio liked it.  
Had the Count even a shred of compassion or mercy, Ilya may have been very attracted to him. But as it was Lucio was very self-focused. Anything he did was for his own benefit, and Ilya had treated far too many of Lucio’s victims to really fall for the man. Yet he was bound by his own oath to the Hippocratic law, and his own morals to let the Count just suffer.  
After a moment passed, Ilya pulled a small vile from his pocket, clearing his throat. “I was coming to administer your pain medication.”  
Lucio sneered, holding out his good arm. “Ugh. It barely helps. You should up the dosage.”  
“Well, too much and you won’t even be able to feel your fingers. More than that and you’ll be catatonic.” Ilya explained. “I don’t think that would be ethical.” Though he played the scenario over in his mind thinking that might not be such a bad idea, he administered the shot at its recommended dosage.  
Before he even finished rolling Lucio’s sleeve down, Lucio’s hand darted and caught Ilya by the wrist. Ilya felt his heart jump.  
“You and that magician… you ARE looking for a cure, aren’t you?” Lucio’s voice was low, but still commanded attention. Ilya nodded slowly. His heartrate climbing under the Counts scrutinizing stare.  
“Yes, of course.” Ilya responded. His usual flowery speech was mulled down to simple responses. He knew the Count grew tired of waiting, and he was unsure of how much longer he would sit and wait before he ran out of patience. What’s worse was how it was all left to his own imagination what might happen should he reach that point.  
“I don’t want you to lose focus, Jules… “  
“Of course.”  
“I’m tired now. Leave me.” He shooed him off with a flick of his gold hand.  
He left the count to his rest. His knees shook with frazzled nerves as he made his way to the library. He took a deep breath before entering, trying to put a calmer demeanor on. Once he felt confident he wasn’t going to come across as nervous he pushed open the doors.  
In the corner Asra sat on a pile of pillows, his shoes were set neatly to the side as he read an old tome. He had two stacks of literature piled beside him, and seemed very comfortable where he was. Julian wasn’t sure how to drive Asra to feel motivated. None of the tomes on his subtle glance seemed to have much to do with the task at hand. He was no magician, but he could read. He wrung his hands as he made his way to his desk.  
“The Count is getting impatient.” He warned.  
“Ah.” Asra’s voice held little interest.  
“We should try to present him with some progress. Soon.”  
Asra merely tucked his nose deeper into the tome in an attempt to ignore Ilya’s words. Ilya pursed his lips and turned to his research. Hours passed as he poured through theoretical medical books, new age science manuals, old case files.  
He scrawled over a paper as ideas and theories stuck him. He felt like an author, searching for something new to write. Some sort of plot device which could tie everything together nice and neat. But not a single idea or experiment seemed to hold any water.  
Hours passed with no progress. Ilya sighed, burying his fingers in his bangs as he glanced over to Asra, whom had been silent the entire time. He assumed he’d been sleeping, but despite how silent he was he was still wide awake reading his fourth volume.  
He idly wondered what Asra was honestly doing here if he wasn’t intending to work towards a cure for the plague. Before he could ask, they were interrupted by the library door swinging open, and one of the Count’s aides dipped his head respectfully before he spoke.  
“His Majesty, the Count has requested that the two of you join him in his royal chambers.”  
Asra placed the tome under his arm before he stood. The look on his face was slightly irate. Ilya gave the aide a brief smile in an attempt to impart some sense of respect to the aide.  
“We’ll be on our way.” He stood and realigned his back with series of sharp pops. The aide nodded and bounded off to take care of other duties. Ilya turned to Asra with a doleful look.  
“I guess we’re baby sitters today.” Asra mused as he brushed past Ilya.  
They made their way to Lucio’s chambers. A fire crackled in the fireplace across from the Count’s bed, which made the room all too warm. Nadia sat by the fire, another teacup neatly rested in her hands as she gave the two a contrite glance.  
Lucio’s eyes darted to the door as they entered. “Finally.” He barked. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?”  
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ten- fifteen minutes tops?” Asra said as he slid across the room to glance over the collection of books which lined shelves in the corner. Nadia covered a soft chuckle up with a sip of her tea.  
“Dear Count!” Ilya interrupted. “Do you require more pain management? Are you comfortable? Extra blankets perhaps?”  
“What I require is entertainment.” He stated. “Now amuse me.” He commanded.  
Ilya pulled an ottoman beside Lucio’s bed. “Ah, very well! Shall I tell you of the time I narrowly escaped a shotgun marriage with the Mayor’s daughter in Port Tremaire?”  
“No.”  
“Oh. Um… Okay?” He blinked and paused. “Then what about-“  
Lucio clamped his prosthetic hand over Ilya’s mouth. “I don’t want to hear any of your stories, Jules.” The claws left pin-prick on his hallow cheeks.  
“What then would you like to do, dear husband?” The endearing term sounds very factitious as Nadia spoke them.  
“…Truth or Dare.” He settled after a moment of searching.  
Ah, of course. One of his favorite games. Though typically he frowned on the choice of ‘Truth’ preferring to take advantage of dares and use them to humiliate the other players. Nothing seemed above him however.  
“Very well.” Nadia numbly responded.  
Lucio sat up, excited for the chance to inflict embarrassment on his victims. The rest of the room was not so eager to play. Glances where shared knowingly between Nadia and Asra, while Julian decidedly placed himself a touch farther away in hopes of avoiding becoming the convenient option.  
He glanced between Ilya and Asra as his eyes flickered in delight. “Jules…” He smirked. “I’ll pick on you first… Truth or dare?”  
Ilya gulped. No matter what he chose he knew it was bound to end in humiliation. The Count was very consistent in that way.  
“D-dare…” He hesitated.  
Lucio licked his lips and eyed the man as he contemplated what punishment would best suit the man. “Get on your hands and knees and beg me to never leave you. And make it god dammed convincing.”  
Ilya felt heat rise to his cheeks. Lucio was always putting him in compromising situations such as this. He was always teasing and flirting. Ilya didn’t like it. Not coming from him anyway. Regardless, between a truth which could ruthlessly compromise him and a dare which only served as a platform for his acting skills he preferred the latter.  
Ilya got down beside Lucio’s bed shame gripped him. However Nadia and Asra were friends, surely they realized the situation he’d been put in and would grant him peace after the performance.  
He swept his arms wide and tossed his head back dramatically. “Oh, dear Count!” He then brought his hands back firmly on the edge of the bed and gripped the fabric of Lucio’s sheets between his fingers in false desperation. “My life will simply go to shambles without you!” He bit his lower lip and looked up to the smug grin on Lucio’s face, trying to push back the discomfort this act brought him. “I cannot live without you, my dear Count Lucio!” Lucio stuck a clawed finger beneath Julian’s chin and tilted him closer as he begged. “Please, of all the people in this cruel world, you are the one my heart beats for.” He took Lucio’s hand in his own and clamped it over the left side of his chest for dramatic emphasis. “Don’t leave me, dear Count!!” He gave a dramatic swoon as he collapsed face first into the bed with an exaggerated sob.  
Asra and Nadia both managed a soft chuckle. Ilya’s performance was quite the spectacle. Perhaps he should have been a thespian rather than a physician. Lucio seemed mostly satisfied with the performance.  
“Nicely done, Jules. Though next time I expect more tears and gnashing of teeth.”  
“Ah, everyone’s a critic.” He shrugged while standing back up. Ilya was relieved to be in control of the situation now, however short lived that would be. He gazed around the room. He considered Lucio as he seemed to be the only one who genuinely enjoyed this game, however that put power back in his hands, and his dares and truths could be very poignant. “How about you then, Asra?”  
Asra leaned forward with a very mischievous grin. “Dare.” He encouraged.  
“Oh- erm… I dare you to… Do a thirty second strip tease?” He offered with a sheepish grin. He expected protest.  
Shockingly however, Asra obliged.  
He stood, and grabbed onto the spindle of Lucio’s bed frame, and swung to the left and tugged himself against it while gripping the edge of his scarf and slowly unwinding it before hdrapping it gently into Ilya’s lap.  
Ilya’s mouth hung and his eyes grew wide as he watched. His ears prickled with heat and he was sure his cheeks matched the scarf now resting neatly, and most conveniently in his lap.  
The tease was much more sensual than anyone expected, which brought a grin to Lucio’s face. Nadia could only watch with a bemused look and somewhat devilish grin. But poor Ilya was bright red, trying to look like wasn’t looking to hard. Asra had really only managed to remove his sash and overcoat by the time thirty seconds was over. But that had been enough for Ilya.  
Asra acted as though nothing had even happened and sat back down. His eyes turned immediately to Lucio. “Truth or dare?”  
“Dare!” His orotund voice confirmed he wasn’t afraid of a challenge.  
“Alright.” He innocently stole away Nadia’s teacup, some sort of tingling sensation to her finger tips as he took it. “Then drink the Countess’ tea.”  
Lucio cocked an eyebrow as a look of sheer disappointment overtook him. “That’s it? You’re terrible at this game, Magician.” He took the tea and tossed it back with a look of disinterest. Lucio glanced around the room. “No one has picked on you yet, Noddy. How about it, truth or dare.”  
“Truth.”  
Lucio looked annoyed by the choice. “Ugh, fine...” He thought for a moment before finally settling on a question. “Who here would you most likely cheat on me with?” A grin peaked from ear to ear.  
Nadia’s lips parted and a blush crept across her face.  
Julian and Asra both felt uncomfortable with the question as well. Lucio’s reddened eyes looked knowingly at her.  
“Julian.” She quickly deflected.  
“Liar.” Lucio hissed through a grin. “You think I don’t know?” He barked a bitter laugh.  
Asra was certain he knew nothing. The two of them had never been physical, nothing more than a shared touch between friends. They had never been sexually intimate. However Ilya seemed nervously tickled by the drama. To which Asra rolled his eyes.  
“You don’t know anything.” She stated with a stern expression pressed into her features. “I would never sleep with either one. Such things are… are above me.”  
“HA! You can lie all you want you, abydocomist- but I…” His voice lowered and his eyelids drooped. He sat there, his accusatory finger slowly lowering to the bed before his body slumped back into the pillows.  
“That certainly took longer than it should have.” Asra stood and dusted off his lap.  
It took Julian and Nadia a minute to register what had just happened. Based on Asra’s expectant tone, the two had figured some sort of spell or magic was at play here.  
“It was the tea, wasn’t it?” Nadia gave Asra a thankful look. The Magician seemed oddly irritable.  
“Yes. It should have been almost instant. Better late than never, I suppose.” He padded out the bedroom door, leaving Ilya and Nadia alone. The two exchanged glances. Something was up. Asra would not normally just wander away from them without an excuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the spicy stuff comes soon. I wanted this to feel natural going into that 'relationship' so it took a lot more setup then I initially thought it would. Anyways, thank you to those leaving comments and kudos. It's very encouraging!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heres the lemon! I hope its detailed enough to satisfy, but not so detailed that it sounds utterly silly. Reviews are great. I'd love to hear what your thoughts are on this chapter specifically, as I'm not sure what level of detail is comfortable or wanted.

Asra leaned against his favorite willow tree. Lucio’s accusations ripped open the wound he had worked so hard to cover. The sky darkened and grayed and a deep rumble gave hint of an oncoming storm.  
The magician slumped to the ground. His finger traced a name into the base of the tree trunk. As he traced the bark curled and peeled away with magical influence which left a name scathed in it’s surface. The name was yours. He gently ran his thumb of it as he read it back to himself in a broken whisper.  
When the rain began to fall it was at first just soft pitter-patters. However, when it came over the horizon it grew to a torrential downpour.   
Tears mixed with the heavy droplets on Asra’s face as he continued to whisper the name over and over again, each time his voice grew louder. Finally the rain was full and heavy. The sound drowned out Asra’s voice as he called out into the sky. He could scream, but it was never loud enough to exceed the rain. It was an appropriate reflection of his failed attempt at saving the one he loved from the plague.  
Absolutely futile.  
Asra took comfort in the knowledge that no one could hear him as anguish overcame him. He was helpless, hopeless, and utterly alone. He knew his cries could do nothing. He was not sure how long he had been there, but he was drenched. A chill over took his body as his cries died down. He sat in the rain soaked grass and gave his raw throat time to recover. A numbness took over his body and heat prickled his cheeks. When his head felt like it was blotted with a fog, Asra’s eyes slid shut.  
Time passed without his knowledge and when he next opened his eyes, he was lying in a plush bed. The rich wine colored velvet beneath him brushed against his cheeks, creating a soft sensation that nearly tempted him back to sleep. It seemed as though he was in one of the guest rooms at the palace.  
He was weak, but forced himself to sit up. Despite having been bundled in thick blankets, he still felt chilled.  
“Ah, you’re awake.” Ilya’s voice pipped up from the other side of the room. “Don’t try to get up. I’m afraid you’re running a bit of a fever.”  
“Did you bring me here?”  
The doctor subconsciously rubbed his shoulder as a soft blush creeped over his cheeks. “Countess Nadia was kind enough to provide you a space in one of her guest rooms.” He closed the distance between them and sat beside the bed. He set a tray with a glass of water and a jar of leeches beside Asra.  
Asra wrinkled his nose for a moment. “Ilya, no leeches, please.”  
“Ah… But- um… It’ll help.” He tried to convince him. “And it would seem I’m your doctor for today, so…” He offered him the water glass.  
“I’ve had worse fevers and lived.” He stated as he took a slow sip of the water.  
Ilya lowered his gaze. Despite the fact they had worked together for so long he really didn’t know much about Asra’s past. Asra glanced at him from the corner of his eye as he drank. When the glass was drained, he leaned back against the frame of the bed.   
“Can I… ask what you were doing out in the rain?” Asra’s face grew a distant and cold. “Ah, well. Never mind you don’t have to.” Ilya quickly stammered.  
Asra sighed and wiped the look from his face. “I’ve… Lost someone important to the Red Plague.” He tried to explain calmly, but his voice betrayed him with a bitter note. “I… Miss them.”  
Ilya bit his lip. It was painful to hear that answer. In many ways he felt responsible for each and every victim. In his mind every death should only serve to put another loop in his proverbial noose. He shifted in his seat; guilt plastered on his face.  
“But I think we all know someone who’s been taken by the Plague at this point.” Asra eyed him. He studied the look of discomfort on Ilya’s face as he spoke.  
Ilya nodded and swallowed before he spoke. “Yes. Yes my ah- my apprentice.” He cleared his throat. “We- um… We were not that close but…” His mouth made a hard line as mal de coucou seemed to grip him. “I suppose we didn’t have the time to become close.” He didn’t realized he’d been afflicted with a dead reckoning until he really stopped to think about the situation. The clinic had been like a save point up until the Plague really picked up. Now it was just another space lost in time.  
Asra watched with a pleasure-less look in his eyes as Ilya rambled. He had almost believed Ilya didn’t even remember. Somehow Asra wanted him to feel more anguish over such a loss, but at the same time, he knew it would only upset him more if he acted as though he had some great repertoire with his lost one. No one cared for them more than Asra. Ilya’s ramblings had sputtered into a slow hault.  
“Anyway… It’s best not to… to dwell on these things so much.”  
Both men sat in a silent state of desiderium. The irony brought a sour taste to Asra’s mouth. He saw the guilt and loneliness all twisted together on Ilya’s face. As much as he hated it, he pitied him just a little, and that made it easier to forgive him. However popular as he was around town, it had become obvious that Ilya didn’t really have any true friendships to speak of.  
The silence between them lasted a good few minutes before Ilya clamped his hands down on his knees and stood. “Ah, well. I’ll let you rest.”  
“Ilya, why don’t you stay? I could use the company.” His hand idly clenched at the space over his broken heart. He truly didn’t want to be left alone to stew in the raw emotions he experienced. Ilya was at this point growing to be a welcomed distraction.  
Ilya smiled softly and sat back down. He too was relieved to have Asra’s company. “Very well then. If that is what my patient needs then that is what he gets.” He scooted the jar of leeches to the side of the table and leaned forward, elbows rested neatly on its edge.  
The two of them carried on in conversation and moved on from the topic of the Plague into more comfortable territory. Today Ilya listened to Asra speak of his adventures and the things he had seen. A lot of which llya had yet to see for himself. As a fellow adventuring spirit, he yearned to see some of the sights the magician had described. Fantastic landscapes, beautiful beaches, quaint desert villages, cavernous mountains... All too great in description for him to picture.   
Once and while Asra would doze off and Ilya would sink his nose into a medical science book, trying to make headway on a cure for the plague between Asra’s naps.  
He was sure to keep the magician’s water topped off and as requested, he left the leeches and blood-letting out of his treatment. A realization had dawned on the two of them as they stayed cooped up in the room for the better half of the day. That was- the two were not so different from each other when they really got to the root of things.  
True they had lived very different lives, but they both had a sense of adventure, a sense of humor, and they both where filled with a longing for companionship. Ilya had grown a deep fondness for Asra, and he’d long stopped trying to beat down that feeling. However his fear lied in that Asra may not reciprocate.  
It was a little past seven when Asra had noticed the time. “Well Ilya, thank you for your company today.” He said with a genuine smile.  
“It was my pleasure.” The doctor bowed deeply.  
“I need to get back to the shop now.” Asra stood, and straightened out his clothes before he took one last sip of water.  
“You’ve been ill, I think you should stay the night here.” Ilya insisted, concern apparent in his voice.  
Asra shook his head. “No, I feel much better now.” He set the glass down and gathered his bag and scarf.  
“Ah, then at least let me walk you home for my own sanity.” The doctor’s anxiety was very clear. Asra thought for a moment. He took Ilya’s feelings into consideration before answering.  
“Hm… Alright. It that’s what will make you feel better.” He granted. Ilya smiled in relief and strode alongside Asra as they made their way to the magic shop.   
Outside the sun had begun to set, however heat still rose from the stone streets and warmed the air which kept the two pleasantly warm. Ilya had a light bounce in his step as he followed.   
Asra was a little achy from laying in a bed all day and the walk was welcomed as he was finally able to stretch his legs out. The two walked side by side as Ilya’s mind wandered, rendering him into an uncharacteristic silence. Asra briefly wondered how long the silence would continue when he noticed it. The doctor was clearly lost in thought. The more he tried to guess what Ilya was thinking, the more amused he became with his own guesses. He let out a soft chuckle, which caught Ilya’s attention. He looked at the magician, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as he took on a surprised expression.   
“What is it? What?” He looked around for the source of Asra’s amusement, which only served to amuse Asra further, and a sly smile graced his lips.  
“Ilya’s you’re very quiet right now.” He pointed out. “I was just trying to guess what you were thinking about.”  
Ilya blushed. “Oh. Me? Well I…” He began to mutter. “Ah its nothing really, just that today has been- well… a breath of fresh air, really.” He rubbed the back of his head in thought. “I’ve been so focused on plague victims lately that it’s nice to finally have a simple case to work on. That’s all.”  
Asra nodded. “Yes, I suppose today must have felt like a break after… everything else.” They found themselves chatting outside of the shop as Asra dug through his robes for the key to the shop.  
Ilya nodded, still a little flushed from being called out.  
“But I’m glad.” Asra smiled. “I also needed the break.” He fished out the key, one of its wards caught on a loose thread. As he tugged it free it flung from his grip and landed a few feet away.  
“Ah, I’ll get it!” Ilya clamored to retrieve the key and on his way tripped over a cobblestone. He felt the tug of gravity and shut his eyes in anticipation of the inevitable impact.  
However the impact never came. Confused he opened his eyes to realize that Asra had caught him up in his slender arms, and they now leaned against the front door to Asra’s shop. Asra was staring straight into Ilya’s stormy grey eyes, and Ilya back into Asra’s soft lavender eyes. The last light of day finally died in that moment and there were left in the sweeping night wind.  
Neither one of them was sure what happened in the few seconds that they had gazed into each other’s eyes, but some sort of unspoken conversation occurred which resulted in the chain reaction of events that unfolded next.  
Though neither one was sure who acted first, a permission had been granted nor Ilya’s lips swept over Asra’s. Simultaneously Asra’s arms wrapped around Ilya’s slender form.  
Ilya had the ashy taste of black coffee on his breath, which gave Asra the urge to drink in his taste as they embraced against the shop door. Ilya on the other hand was breathing in Asra’s floral scent. He smelled intoxicatingly sweet, which made his head light.  
With some effort, and the urge to breath again, they finally pulled apart.  
“W-what are we doing?” Ilya breathed. The touch starved men panted quietly in the dark street.  
“Yes, you’re absolutely right.” Asra sunk down and picked up his key. Ilya’s face dropped to one of disappointment. For a brief minute he thought maybe he had misread Asra’s intentions. “We should go inside.” Asra said as he stood back up and unlocked the door.  
The invitation caused Ilya’s heart flutter in excitement. Was Asra really inviting him in after all that? Was this to continue?   
The two stepped inside, and Asra nodded his head to the pillow pile which served as makeshift seating. Ilya nervously sat cross-legged as Asra lit a few candles. The room was barely brightened. Just enough to see where the outlines of things where. It provided both men with some comfort.  
Asra got down and climbed over the pillows. He stopped just short of Ilya’s lips. “This is better, right?”  
Ilya gulped and nodded. “I- erm… yes.”  
“Good…” His voice dimmed to a soft whisper as he pressed his full lips against Ilya’s throat. He brought his hand up to tangle into Ilya’s auburn hair. Ilya shuttered and his breath caught nervously. “Come now, Ilya… A minute ago you were the one who kissed me…”  
“Er… I was? I thought you did-“ His shaky words were cut short when Asra’s soft lips melded with his once more. He let out a soft moan as a wave of relief washed over him. He felt himself grow more eager as the kiss went on. Ilya parted Asra’s lips with his tongue.   
Accepting the advance Asra tilted his head slightly and granted him access. Warmth spread between them as Ilya shifted his body and guided Asra into his lap. The magician’s smaller frame fit well in his lap. Asra’s arms snaked around Ilya’s shoulders and neck. He ran his fingers through Ilya’s curly hair, which in turn gave Ilya goosebumps.  
He shivered and shook as he clung tighter to Asra, feeling his weight in his lap, he took in his scent. He felt even better to hold than he’d expected. Something about this was so fulfilled him. He’d needed the touch of another for so long that every spot their bodies met sent sparks to his senses.  
Asra gave Ilya’s hair an experimental tug at the roots, to which Ilya moaned in delight. Asra broke the kiss to give him a dark smile. “You like that, Ilya?”  
The doctor bit his lip and stared into Asra’s eyes. “Yes… Again. Please. Harder…” He pleaded, and Asra took a firm hold on the back of Ilya’s head. He forced him to tilt his head back and bit sumptuously at the firm line of his throat. Ilya groaned, half in pain and the other half pleasure, as the magician worked his throat like a fine instrument.  
“God, yes… just like that….” He drew in a long sharp breath through his teeth.  
“Ilya…. Shhhh….” He hushed as he continued to nip and kiss the doctor’s neck.  
Ilya fought back a gentle moan and his fingers gripped for Asra’s shirt. He tugged it up over his head, only momentarily breaking the onslaught of love bites. Both of them had grown a stirring in their loins, and something inside them gave way to a certain desperate impatience, yet everything was so delicious, and so necessary that they’d resigned to taking their time as the ache from below spread to every limb till they were practically ablaze with lust.  
Ilya’s shirt had been torn open and his gloves tossed aside. Asra was down to nothing more than a pair of half fastened pants as Ilya worked to undress him while he tended to the tender scape of his neck and shoulders.  
Ilya’s hand had sunk into Asra’s hair and he held him to his chest, afraid to let go. His other hand clawed up and down Asra’s back, the motion left fine red lines on his perfect skin. Ilya could feel Asra pressed against his abdomen, which only served to make Ilya a more prominent component in the equation as well. Asra grinned as Ilya’s hips bucked against the leg he had planted between Ilya’s long limbs.  
“God…” Ilya drew the word out long and heavy. “I need- mmph… Needed this so badly…” Ilya huffed and panted between words, accenting them with an uncontrolled thrust of the hips. Asra grinded himself into Ilya’s left oblique in a silent agreement.  
The fabric of their pants seemed unbelievably abrasive and thick right now. Ilya’s hand slipped between them and rested on the tautness of Asra’s lower half. His hand cautiously rubbed against him, slowly back and forth.  
Asra moaned softly in Ilya’s ear. His eyes slid shut with a flutter. He stopped tending to Ilya’s neck. Now it was his turn to be spoiled, and he did not want to distract Ilya.  
Ilya slipped his hand around the small of Asra’s back and slowly lowered him down against the pillows. When he was certain Asra was comfortable he cautiously ran his fingertips down the center of Asra’s stomach, and stopped at the top of his waistband.  
“E-er… May I…?”  
Asra nodded, with a bookish look on his face. Ilya hesitated just a second more before he slipped his hand beneath the fabric. His fingertips experimentally probed, but it didn’t take him long to find the magician’s arousal.  
His cheeks immediately turned a deep red as he resisted the urge to retract completely and run away in a frenzy of shy embarrassment. He swallowed hard as he gingerly tugged it free from its trappings. He didn’t dare spare a glance as he felt things out.  
His hesitation was apparent. Asra whad begun to wonder what Ilya's level of experience was with other men. In that moment, Ilya's thumb smoothly glided over the top, and down to the back where he could feel a subtle vein forming beneath the tight skin.  
Much to Asra’s surprise, Ilya’s hands where rough, however not unpleasant. Asra stretched out and the action caused his pants to slip lower. Ilya held his breath, tense and nervous as he slid Asra between his fingers. His touch was all to gentle. Asra was used to a little more friction and a little less hesitation.  
“Ilya…” The doctor’s eyes had begun to wander, but at the sound of his own name they snapped back to attention. “Relax…” He soothed while brushing auburn hair to the side. “I’m not made of glass.”  
Ilya gulped and nodded. He forced himself to take in a slow shaky breath. His heart pounded viciously against his ribs, and he took a more natural approach. He firmed his grip, but his motions were still a touch rigid as he began to pump Asra. His pace quickened when Asra let out a pleased sigh.  
His own nether region was almost in pain as it struggled to break the integrity of his trousers. He leaned forward, using his shoulder to brace himself against the wall as he hunched over Asra, working him with one hand and his other retreating to his own throbbing appendage. He managed to unfasten his pants but before he could do anything about it, Asra grabbed him by the wrist.   
“Don’t do it, Ilya. Focus on me.”   
Ilya bit his lip, but complied with a very low unsatisfied whimper.  
Asra’s demand was selfish, but also served to make Ilya squirm, which gave him some sort of strange and cruel satisfaction. Ilya’s free hand drifted into Asra’s fluffy opalescent hair and stroked it softly. The action was loving and carried a fondness. Asra closed his eyes, trying to disconnect long enough to picture himself with someone else. He emitted a dreamy hum as his mind blanked.  
Ilya’s hot breath poured over Asra’s chest, causing him to shiver in pleasure. The tense pressure below his belt had grown tenfold in the time Ilya had started. He arched his back, as Ilya slid from tip to base with great force. He finally allowed himself release.   
White, hot, strand’s confettied Ilya’s fist, and Asra’s chest. Ilya glanced down, a strangely satisfied but devious grin picked at the corners of his mouth. He’d pleased Asra and this was enough to arouse joy in the doctor.  
But it didn’t stop there.   
Without missing a beat, Asra slid down between Ilya’s arms, and continued to scoot downwards until an unbelievably red shade came to Ilya’s cheeks. Asra's cool and soft hands rested on the sharpest points of Ilya’s hip bones. His fingers warmed against Ilya’s skin, and his breath gently teased the throbbing pain that lay between his hands. Then without warning, his tongue flicked out, taking a short teasing sweep over his tip.  
Ilya shook violently, his pulse strong and his resolve weak, he nearly collapsed over Asra. But he managed to brace his arms enough to keep himself from losing his nerve.   
It was now that he felt Asra’s gentle fingers wrap around him, and he began placing kisses along the length of him. This was already too much. The feeling leaving him dizzy, and sweat collected at his brow. As his breathing grew strained against his will.  
Asra’s soft lips encompassed him, taking him in slowly. Ilya gasped, and reflexively bucked his hips, but Asra’s hand remained firm on his hip, steadying him, and keeping level with his movement.   
“Mmm… Asra…” His eyes seemed to fog as Asra began to slid up and down with his mouth, which was taut around him. A pleasurable slickness and warmth fueled his movement. As he tried bucking against him once more, Asra slipped him back out completely. He gave hint of frustration when he flipped Ilya over, planting him firmly on his back.   
“Stop moving.” He commanded in irritation.   
Ilya gulped and nodded obediently. It took all his strength to stay still when Asra returned to the task. What became worse was when his hand drifted up to accompany his mouth, creating an entirely new level of pleasure. His eyes rolled back, and the pressure he’d been holding back became too much for him as he sloppily toppled over his edge with a foolhardy whine.   
Asra barley managed to swallow back the hat in his throat. He climbed beside Ilya, laying on his back. The two were gasping for air as they laid there in the cool quiet. Neither one was sure what to say in the moment, but the air was heavy laden with unanswered questions. Neither one addressed the situation, or asked allowed what had lead them to commit such an act. Each had their own assumptions and reason, but nothing was disclosed.   
As their breathing settled the two of them drifted into a deep slumber, and as the candles burn out one by one, so did the questions. This was to never be spoken of outside the magic shop.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello potential readers! This is the first fandom I've been in since Invader Zim was big where I wanted to actually write and legit fangirled over the characters. Also my first m/m fanfic so my apologies as a female writer if it does not contain proper elements of the true m/m relationship.  
> I'd also like to make it know I have not completed writing this, so tags are subject to accumulate as I write more! I'm just not 100% Certain what all will happen myself yet! Erm, thats not to say I don't know what the end will be, but rather what is going to happen as we approach it.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this story. It was originally just a small idea but it just kinda kept writing itself. Please let me know what you think in the comments! And if anyone feels they would like to roleplay with me... well- you can find me on instagram as Abbey.LouWho and shoot me a message! I also have a discord and other forms of contact so lemme know. I'm desperate to share this fandom with someone.  
> Thank you again!


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